


Eighteen Touches

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hannigram - Freeform, Holding Hands, Lists, M/M, NSFW, Poems?, Prose Poem, Therapy, bad at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:45:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hannibal liked to touch Will. [...] On this particular visit, there were 18.





	Eighteen Touches

Hannibal liked to touch Will. It was always something to be easily passed as a casual gesture, a brush of the backs of hands, a pat on the back, a gentle grip on the shoulder; they could have been friends. When Will entered Hannibal’s office for the 457th time (that is to say, twice a week well into the fourth year of their relationship), he began to question the nature of every touch that Hannibal gave him. On this particular visit, there were 18.

The first was handshake. Not exactly risqué, but the manner in which Hannibal greeted Will was distinctly reminiscent of the joy Will saw in the eyes of his dogs each time he arrived at home (that is to say, if Hannibal had a tail, he would wag it).

The second was brush of the upper arm. Will felt the static electricity between them as they passed in a room where they could easily avoid one another.  Hannibal gravitated close in the orbit of Will, and for a single moment, their planets collided. The electricity between them may have been from the carpeting or the air, but they decided that it was from something more.

The third touch was more of a figurative one, in which, Hannibal’s eyes focused on Will’s for over 2 minutes. Their voices got quiet (that is to say, holding respect for the solemnity of comfortable silence).

The fourth touch was Hannibal’s hand on Will’s. This was not passed off as casual; in fact, quite the opposite was true. Their hands held the weight of four years, anger, respect, fury, and love between them.

It was enough that it could break their fingers.

The fifth was lips touching chapped lips, the sixth was their tongues.

The seventh was Hannibal’s hand on Will’s waist, holding him tight enough to bruise not only Will’s flesh but the aching parts of his soul that mourned any separation between them.

The eighth was a thigh slotted between two more, the ninth was a hand on a wrist on the soft sofa beneath them, and fingernails dug into Will’s skin.

The tenth was Will’s lips on Hannibal’s neck, the 11th was his teeth.

For the 12th, Hannibal returned the favor, and the 13th was the blood sliding down Hannibal’s throat.

The 14th, nervous hands began to strip one another, the 15th touch was fingers.

Once again, there were lips, but one of their mouths was free. The 17th touch was Will’s fingers entwined in Hannibal’s hair.

And the 18th was a kiss goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> A blurb written at 2AM, as an attempt at breaking a long hiatus.


End file.
